


Wake Up, John

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coma, Hospitals, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:17:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a fall, John is left hospitalized and Sherlock can do nothing but sit by his bedside, waiting for him to wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up, John

It was too quiet. Too cold and clinical. Sherlock touched John’s hand, touching each of his lifeless fingers. His eyes were shut; his face expressionless, with only the sound of John’s breaths to remind Sherlock that he was alive. _Wake up, John_. He wanted John’s smile back, his laugh, the twinkle in his eye. He wanted to watch him comb his hair and brush his teeth. This wasn’t John. John didn’t wear white hospital gowns, he wore jumpers.

Sherlock rose from his seat. He didn’t want to leave, he wanted to talk to John and make him wake up. _Why won’t you wake up, John?_ Pulling collar up, he turned to leave, but hesitated at the door. He looked back at John, lying still. He looked around and couldn’t see another soul. He walked back to John’s bed and stroked the top of his head. He kissed John’s brow and then his lips. He didn’t kiss him back. He didn’t even twitch.  
   ‘John, wake up, for me. That’s... that’s an order.’ He whispered, his voice cracking as he finished his sentence.

The streets of London seemed darker and colder than they usually did. Maybe the city itself was starting to lose hope. Sherlock paid the cabbie and entered 221B. He wearily climbed the stairs, which creaked and sighed with every step he took. The flat was dark. Sherlock didn’t turn on any of the lights. He curled up in his chair, gazing at the empty chair opposite. Locks of his own curly hair fell in front of his eyes but he didn’t move them away. He just sat, until he eventually fell asleep.

When he awoke, a tea tray had magically appeared. His first thought was of John. With his tea, just after he’d changed for the day. The thought sent Sherlock to John’s bedroom. He opened the doors of the wardrobe and ran his hand over the soft material of every one of John’s shirts and jackets and jumpers. He found the blue checked shirt that John was wearing when they first met. The whole wardrobe had John’s aroma. Sherlock breathed in deeply. Such a warm, familiar smell.

He returned to his chair, hugging his knees to his chest. He closed his eyes and saw John fall. He saw him tripping and hitting his head. He didn’t stop him from falling; he didn’t catch him in time. This was his fault. He’d wanted to hold John’s hand. _Would that have saved him or would he have fallen too?_ The visions had invaded his brain and wouldn’t go away. They clouded his mind like a thick fog that wouldn’t lift, that wouldn’t go away. He hadn’t taken a case since it happened. There was no way he could think logically when John was still the way he was.

Sherlock opened up his laptop. _The blog of John Watson_. He searched through the entries and found _a Study in Pink_. He read it, smiling at John’s words. _John’s words_. He read each and every case and a wave of happy memories washed over him.

The mobile started buzzing. He pressed the button to answer and raised it to his ear. _‘Mr Holmes? It’s John – he’s woken up.’_


End file.
